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Whirling around, I made my way back to my office, slamming my coffee down on my desk, only realizing I shouldn’t have done that, giving thanks that it didn’t make a mess. As much as I cared for Tiffany and even Chris still, despite him hitting me in the fucking head with a chair for no good reason, Mr. Levine had made this about more than just my relationship with his daughter and my soured friendship with his son.
This was a lot bigger than our personal relationships, so Tiffany would have to accept my apologies. Chris would have to go on hating me. Their father was ruining more than just my name; he was defaming my character, and I wouldn’t take that lying down. Especially when it was based on a complete and utter lie. Mr. Levine had absolutely no leg to stand on.
The only way left to save my good name and the good name of my friends was to win this case in court. Otherwise, our character would be tarnished. Just by that move alone by Mr. Levine, he made sure that our character would at least be QUESTIONED forever, despite the outcome of the case, and that wasn’t cool.
Bring it on, he said. Well, it was being brought.
Chapter 5
Anthony
Sexusedtobemy medicine. It still was. The problem, however, was that there was only one person I wanted to have it with. And that was Tiffany. But after Lion’s Bar, there was no chance of that happening. Not after seeing how much it hurt Chris.
My heart swelled with anxiety at the thought of doing without my medicine. Whenever my mind was filled with noise, and stress was pounding my bones, there was nothing better than losing myself into the warmth of a woman. The adrenaline eased my ache and for a few minutes, I could think of nothing else but pleasure before having to face the noise again. What was I meant to do now that my medicine had become poisonous? Something I had to stay away from, or it could hurt the people I cared about.
This past week, I tried to become best friends with my hand, but my hand was pathetic. My hand didn’t moan my name and scratch my back. And after I was done, I didn’t get the ego boost that came with watching a woman after we were done fucking. Sure, I didn’t like the clinginess, but it did feel amazing to know that I had something to do with the look of bliss on her face. Now, the only woman I wanted to look at me that way was Tiffany, and it sucked. When I closed my eyes, I saw her face. And then I saw Chris’ face. Felt the way he laid into me and saw how he would’ve kept going if no one stopped him. He would’ve killed me, and I wouldn’t have blamed him. I hurt him before, knew this would hurt him again, and didn’t give a fuck about anyone but myself. And Tiffany. Fuck, I cared about Tiffany.
For the first time in fucking ever, I found myself caring for a woman and like the karma of all the women I treated as if they were nothing coming back to punish me, the one woman I cared for was the one I couldn’t have.
An apology couldn’t fix anything either. I’d apologized to Chris before and well, that obviously meant nothing, did it? I wouldn’t believe the words coming out of my own mouth either if it were me.
So great, I couldn’t fuck to reduce the noise in my head.
The noise screamed at me that I was pathetic. I was a terrible friend who should’ve let Chris lay into me some more. I would’ve deserved it if he just kept hitting and never… As obvious as it was that I was a shitty friend, I couldn’t let my thoughts go down that road. It was too dark, and it would swallow me up. But if the noise in my head could be prevented from consuming me, I had to find a way to drown it out. That’s why I was here in this nightclub with music so loud, my eardrums were constantly vibrating, and my brain felt numb. If sex wasn’t on the table for me, then a drink or a few were. Mix that in with some horrible music and being surrounded by people who didn’t give a shit about me, and I didn’t give a shit about.
It was my hope when I came here, I’d be able to drown out thoughts of Tiffany. But by the sixth drink, it seemed I was either hallucinating or being thrown into the den of temptation. Across the room, under the flickering white and blue strobe lights, in a sea of dancing bodies, I spotted her. Her red hair fell over half her face as she moved along to the music, laughing with the other women around her.
My body didn’t know how to react, and my feet didn’t know what to do. But my mind and my heart joined alliances as I turned to the bartender.
“It’s her!” I yelled over the music, pointing into the crowd.
The bass of the music rattled the alcohol bottles behind him, and he just nodded at me, smiling one of those uninterested grins before walking away. He probably didn’t hear me. He didn’t need to.
My heart launched me forward, and my body waded through the sea of people but soon, I lost sight of her. Arms shot out from the crowd as the dancing bodies shouted to the lyrics of the song that was playing. Their arms flailed to the rhythm, pumping the air, blocking my view. Irritation tempted me to shove people out of the way, but I wasn’t a madman. The music served as a soundtrack as beats rose in conjunction with my panic.
Soon, I spotted her again, making her way toward the exit with a group of other women. And I ran. Bolting through the crowd, running out of the club, searching the street for her. She was leaning against the side of a car, about to smoke a cigarette.
“Tiffany!” I yelled. She didn’t seem to hear me, so I hurried closer, grateful that she didn’t seem to be rushing to go anywhere else. “Tiffany,” I sighed, smiling as I stood in front of her.
Except the woman that looked up wasn’t her.
“With a face like yours, you can call me whatever you want, sweetheart.” She smiled back at me, looking me over from head to toe.
“Ooh!” her brunette friend teased.
My heart sank, and my brain wasn’t ready to accept the fact that I had mistaken her. My body wanted Tiffany. For a moment, I thought that perhaps if I squinted hard enough, I would’ve been able to sweet talk her into letting me hit it, and I could pretend for the night that it was in fact Tiffany. But no amount of squinting could’ve convinced me. She wouldn’t smell like her or feel like her. She wasn’t her.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” I muttered, turning away and hailing a cab.
“Aww.” I heard someone say from behind me, and I agreed with them. Aww. Poor me. Poor, pathetic, lonely Anthony.
* * *
The smell of my morning breath woke me up. Oof. No, thank you. Dragging myself from the bed, I stumbled to my feet. The back of my head throbbed, and I held it, feeling the sweat that soaked my tangled curly hair. I groaned. From the bathroom in my master bedroom, a glimmer of sunlight peeked through the windows. Damn, it was no surprise that I drank a bit last night but fuck, I was getting too old for this shit. And how long was I asleep for?
Grabbing my watch from the TV stand in my bedroom, I squinted past the pain in my eyes to see the time. Oh shit, it was fucking midday. Swearing and marching to the window, I
pulled the blinds open, spinning around to look at my empty, messy bed. It looked like I kicked the hell out of my shoes last night since one foot was laying near the closet, and the other was beneath the TV stand.
